


Changing the Game

by Haely_Potter



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Temeraire - Naomi Novik, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-01 12:44:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8624932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haely_Potter/pseuds/Haely_Potter
Summary: Dragons have a way of changing things.Finding a dragon egg and becoming a dragon Captain changed Alexander Hamilton's life. And the world changed with him.





	1. Washed ashore

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on a Hamilton fix-it since I listened to the soundtrack last year. I read the whole Temeraire series last spring, but this sprung to mind this summer when I read League of Dragons.  
> Because what is the one rule in aerial corps? No dueling. What did Hamilton (and his son) die of? Dueling.  
> So here we are.  
> I have some thirteen thousand words written, but it's still very fractured, but I'm pleased with the beginning, so I figured I could start posting.  
> BTW, Temeraire characters will appear way later in the story, since it starts in 1772.

Caribbean was, in many ways, a paradise. In others, it was hell.

For Alexander Hamilton, it was many things. Home, hell, hard school of life. Somewhere to get as far away from as possible. He had little luck in this endeavor for the first fifteen years of his life, but after the hurricane of 1772, when he was fifteen, two things happened, that swept him away from the place of his birth and to the midst of the American Revolution.

The first thing was that his friend Hugh Knox urged him to publish his experiences with the hurricane in the Royal Danish-American Gazette.

The second was finding a dragon egg washed on the shore during the hurricane.

That the egg was still intact was as close to a miracle as anything Hamilton had seen. From his reading (one of the books his mother owned, and his cousin saved for him, was on dragons) he must have known how fragile dragon eggs were until they were a week or two from hatching. When he found it, it was slightly elastic, meaning it would hatch in less than six months.

Hamilton had no idea what publishing his perspective of the hurricane would bring, but he knew that if he were a dragon captain, no one would keep him on St. Croix. Of course, that fall was when he left for America, and Elizabethtown Academy in preparation of college.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_August 31st, 1772_

Alexander’s eyes swept over the chaos and destruction of the harbor. There was nothing left standing that wasn’t made of stone, like the Christiansted castle, though parts of the roof had caved in. The Beekman and Cruger's headquarters were in smithereens. One of the warehouses had survived partly, but there was little hope anything inside had survived the flood of sea water that was even now slowly trickling out. There were ships in the harbor, now wrecks lying on their side.

There were bodies in all sorts of places, black and white, slave and master. The storm hadn’t cared who it was throwing around. It probably hadn’t even noticed it was throwing around anyone.

He knew he should have felt horror at the sight in front of him, but he was just numb. This was the fourth time in five years his life had been ripped away from him. Every other time he’d managed to build it up again: after his father left, mother had picked herself up and founded a general goods store; after mother died and any possible inheritance had been given to her  _legitimate_ son, Alexander and James had been taken in by cousin Peter and they’d found jobs; after cousin Peter’s suicide, James had found an apprenticeship and Alexander had been taken in by the Stevenses, all the while continuing his work at Beekman and Cruger’s. But how was he supposed to pick up after this?

Slowly Alexander turned away and started walking. It wouldn’t matter where he walked, it was an island and he’d end up where he started eventually. He should have started giving instructions to the few employees he had under him, as well as the slaves of the company, but in that moment he really couldn’t have cared less if he’d tried. With his luck, the Stevenses would be dead. Lucky Ned was safe in New York, though he would weep bitter tears if he heard of his family’s demise. Would he have cared if it was Alexander? Would Ned have cried for him? Would his father and brother have cried for him? Was his brother even alive?

Would his death matter to anyone? Would anyone remember him a year after his death? Would he have a legacy? What even would be his legacy? So far, the only marks he’d left in his life had been to an accounting book in Beekman and Cruger’s office. And the few poems Hugh Knox had encouraged him to publish in the Royal Danish-American Gazette, but that was it.

That was the moment, on the walk after the hurricane, when Alexander realized he wanted more for himself. Much more. He wanted his name to be known centuries after he’d died. No longer would it be enough to have his name known for the duration of his life, but he wanted to be remembered like Hercules or Julius Caesar or Richard the Lionheart. A legend.

Easiest way to achieve that would be in a war, he’d already known that. He’d wished for a war for the last three years. It’s a good thing modern warfare was less dependent on a man’s physical ability than his mental prowess, because Alexander wasn’t tall or particularly muscled. Once he had the name recognition, and if he survived the war, he could… become a tradesman. Begin his own company. Everything else would need an education he isn’t likely to get, no matter how good the Stevenses are to him.

Something purple caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and Alexander turned to look.

A sphere – an egg. Much larger than any of the bird eggs he had ever seen. Only one thing lays eggs that large – dragons.

Being a dragon captain would mean the instant rank of Captain in any army. But a dragon would also eat more meat than he could afford for years. But armies feed their dragons the same way they do their horses. And does it have to be meat? Why not fish? Or beans or wheat?

How does one harness a dragon anyway? How quickly do they grow? When do they learn to talk or fly? Would this one breathe fire or spit acid? Would it have spikes or ridges? Would it be long or stout? What color would it be?

Alexander approached the egg, looking around to see if some dragon was around, protecting the egg, but as no mother or father dragon appeared, he knelt by the egg. He ran a palm gently over the shell, testing its hardness. It was firm but gave away if he put even the slightest pressure on it, a little like just washed bed sheets billowing in wind.

The egg was too large for him to carry safely by himself, and he wouldn’t know where to hide it yet anyway. Fine china was always packed in hay for the voyages, so maybe Alexander could utilize a similar setup? Then have two of the employees or slaves carry it for him?

He took a quick look around. He was some distance from Christiansted, but that meant little, as others might want a walk, so he’d have to hide the egg very close to where it was at the moment. The edge of the forest was a little uphill, but if the egg was there, among the fallen palm trees, the tide at least wouldn’t take away the egg or its camouflage.

His course of action decided, Alexander checked if there were any stones around the egg, before starting to gently roll the egg towards the tree line. A few times he had to avert a rock or piece of driftwood, but he made it to the copse of trees without much trouble. There he maneuvered the egg to the safe wedge between two fallen trunks, careful not to push it. After, he gathered leaves and grass and uprooted bushes to camouflage the egg. He walked around to try to catch a glimpse of the egg from any and every corner, and when he did, he rectified the flaw in the egg’s hiding place. In the end, it looked like the hurricane had accidentally blown everything to the wedge between the trees, a complete accident, and not something that would hide something as invaluable as a dragon egg.

Alexander returned briskly back to Christiansted as the sun was already setting, mind whirling with plans.

He would  _not_ be confined to St. Croix and the West Indies for the rest of his life.


	2. (I looked up and) You had your eyes on me

The only known person Hamilton confined of the dragon egg was his friend and recently alleged half-brother Edward Stevens in a letter he sent to him in King’s College. He included a description of the egg in his letter, and asked Stevens to do some research (if he could for his classes), to find out what kind of dragon it might be.

It is unknown where Hamilton kept the egg, but seeing as Calliope was known for her mastery of many languages right from the egg (including Greek, Latin, French and several native African languages), it is safe to say Hamilton hid her egg somewhere public where she learned all the languages spoken around her egg. Hamilton himself was known for his phenomenal French, even if most of his known works are written in English, and learned Greek and Latin in his attempt to get to Princeton College.

Edward Stevens’ answer to his letter came two weeks after Hamilton had sent his, and it speculated that the egg was the result of two wild dragons cross breeding, because no known dragon species’ egg matched the description Hamilton had given him, but he had included descriptions of several dragons that had eggs that shared similarities with the egg. There were the British middleweight Reapers, the French middleweight Pecheurs, and possibly the rumored water spitters from Asia. Also, Stevens added in the post script, there are also the sea serpents to think of, but as they knew barely anything of them, Stevens didn’t feel comfortable including them in his speculations, but a sea serpent’s egg might be more likely to survive in the rough sea.

In the following letter Stevens lined out what was the normal procedure after an egg hatched, and during the winter of ´72-´73, it is likely Hamilton made Calliope’s first harness by himself, as his funds were limited. He also modified the Carabineer clip, in anticipation of easier movement and safer conduit on his future dragon. This has been confirmed from historical sources as well as Hamilton’s own sketches. During the Revolution, the Patriots were the first to adopt this idea, and therefore had less dragon related accidental deaths in their ranks.

It is also obvious Hamilton read up on military tactics, specifically aerial tactics, in the midst of his other studies, because while he got some military training in the New York volunteer militia, he never got much formal education in the art of war. Rather, he learned from books and experience. When he wasn’t reading up on tactics or studying, he was reading up on dragons, so that he’d have a good understanding of his beast’s needs. How Hamilton managed to do all this and bond with Calliope, as well as write his famous political pamphlets A Full Vindication of the Measures of Congress and A Farmer Refuted is unknown. But this is only the first inhuman show of strength and brain power of the fourth President of the United States. Many have suggested that some other anonymous writings published at the time were actually written by Calliope herself, and that Edward Stevens was the one who penned them down.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_April 18th, 1773_

The egg wobbled in the grass, and Alexander stopped breathing. Behind him, Ned was holding his own breath, quill and parchment ready to write down his observations. This was it. This moment would decide if Alexander would go down in history or not. If the dragon accepted him, he’d be able to fight in the revolution that was closing in on them, and bring with him a dragon, which was something the revolutionaries could not have many, while His Majesty’s Aerial Corps had hundreds. He knew he’d side with the rebels in case of violence, but he knew himself well enough to know he preferred the quill to the musket.

The sound of cracking drew his attention to the egg again, and he watched as the crack in the shell spider webbed all over the surface, until with one final push from the inside, the shell nearly exploded. In front of him was a dragon with pink and green scales. With the bright colors Alexander knew immediately the dragon was not related to any of the British breeds, since they were more often than not covered all over in dull colors. The dragon’s body was sleek and long and had no other outcrops beside the limbs and wings – two sets of wings. In fact, it almost looked like a snake simply given wings and limbs. The wings were bat-like, and almost looked like it had three stubby fingers at the wrist, and under Alexander’s intense gaze it rotated its wings in circles, first forwards, then backwards, and he realized it was stretching as the wings opened in all their green-bleeding-to-pink glory. Its tail was long, as was its neck, and Alexander was fairly sure he could see gills in its neck. It seemed like Ned had been right about the sea serpent thing.

“Which of you is Alexander?” it asked with a surprisingly melodious voice. It sounded feminine as far as Alexander could tell. Its eyes were green and split down in the middle by a slit pupil. The gaze slid between him and Ned.

“I am Alexander Hamilton, that’s Edward Stevens. Do you have a name for yourself, or do you mind if I give you one?” Alexander asked.

The dragon craned her neck closer to his face and took a few wobbly steps forward. Alexander got the feeling she was sniffing him. Finally she drew back. “Yes, I believe you may name me. I have listened to you talk for months now, and I should like to be somebody.”

Alexander smiled and ran the wet rag he had on hand over her head, washing off the membrane left over from the egg. “How about Calliope? It means beautiful voice, and was the Greek muse and goddess of poetry and eloquence.”

“Calliope,” the dragon repeated, tasting the name. She nodded decisively. “Calliope Hamilton it is. Alexander, I am hungry now and that thing smells very pleasing. May I eat it?”

He had not been sure if she would accept the fish instead of meat, but he was on a tight budget and fish was cheaper than beef or mutton. “Yes, of course, it’s for you.” What he hadn’t been expecting was for her to adopt his name as her own, but the idea pleased him very much. Dragons lived at best two or three centuries and she would outlive him, and therefore she would be part of his legacy one day.

“Will you read to me again?” Calliope asked between mouthfuls of fish. “I liked to learn of history and politics. Is there going to be a war? Do we like the British? Will we fight? I think I’d like to fight before we have eggs of our own. You haven’t mentioned a mate before, but do you have one? I’d like one, one day, but I’m not interested just yet, I think. Maybe in a year or two. That is, if I find someone I like enough. Alexander, why aren’t there more famous females? You’ve read me about those old European Queens, but where are all the authors and artists and politicians? I don’t want to be forgotten because I’m female or remembered only for the eggs I have or for who’s my mate.”

Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the rapid fire questions and comments, Alexander paused in his cleaning to really think how to answer. “I don’t think you could be forgotten. I don’t think the world has seen a dragon like you before. I’ll make sure you won’t be forgotten, even if I have to write you biography myself. The question about women… I have no answer to that. Except, most men don’t think women have a use beyond having children.”

“Do you think so?”

Alexander shook his head. “No. No I do not. My mother raised me and my brother by herself when my father left. She was so smart. Her shop was the best shop in Christiansted. She survived until the illness and even gathered a small fortune by herself. I have yet to meet a person as smart as her.”

“Alexander, am I a person? I know I’m not human, but am I a person?”

“I think you are, but not under the current law. I… I never thought of that, actually. Maybe I should look into the laws concerning dragons? Would you like to know them? Should I read the books here?”

“Oh, yes please, Alexander. I would really appreciate it.”

Alexander switched from washing her to petting her when all the membrane was gone from her scales. When Calliope was done eating the fish, though there was still about half of them left, she crowded onto his lap like a lap dog. Her long tail curled around Alexander’s middle. He had a book on Plato with him, and opened where he’d left off the day before. He started to read aloud, though Calliope fell asleep before he was done reading the first page.

He closed the book and turned wide, excited eyes to Ned.

“Congratulations, Captain,” was Ned’s impish remark.

“Thank you, doctor,” was Alexander’s reply before he turned to look in wonder at the sleeping dragonet. “It really worked.”

“And she has gills,” Ned said as he leaned to take a closer look at Calliope’s neck. “Just from observing her I’ll know more about sea serpents than any other naturalist on the planet. And two sets of wings, Alex! Two! Does it make her a faster flier, or give her better stamina on long flights? Or maybe help her agility? What about her colors? Green and pink are not the most useful when blending to a surroundings. I’ve never heard of a dragon or a sea serpent with those colors. Do you suppose one of her parents might be from the Incan Empire?”

“It would make sense,” Alexander agreed. “The only indigenous species of dragon in the West Indies is that really small fruit eating one, and they were orange.”

“Yeah, I remember that one,” Ned rolled his eyes. “It’s the one thing I miss the least from home.”

Alexander couldn’t quite agree. He didn’t miss the little dragons either, but he missed the blatant abuse of slaves even less. That wasn’t to say there wasn’t slavery on the continent, no. His grammar school even had slaves assigned to clean the student accommodations and wash the clothes of the students once every two weeks. But the blatant abuse he’d seen on St. Croix and Nevis was absent. Also, slave prices in New York were at least triple that of those in Christiansted.

His eyes turned thoughtfully to Calliope. Was she a person? Dragons had little to no rights in the known world. They had no right to property that wasn’t given to them by their Captains. They got no pay for their services in the British aerial corps. There was no life for dragons outside military service, except the breeding grounds. What if one wanted to start their own company? Or write poetry? Or take part in the politics? What if Calliope wanted to be a fisher instead of a weapon in an army’s arsenal? No one, not even him, would be able to force a fully grown dragon to do anything they didn’t want to do, not really. They could threaten not to feed the beasts, but then the beasts could easily fly away and raid some sheep farmer’s flock.

A dragon’s Captain could be used to force a dragon to surrender, but what about those who had no Captain or didn’t care for them? Or did not want a Captain?

He looked back to Ned. “Can you bring me any books about dragons from King’s’ library?”

After meeting a dragon, he had much more questions than ever before. The brief book on the common European dragon breeds had not prepared him enough for this, but he would learn all he could about dragons. Calliope deserved that and more. Calliope deserved a Captain who knew what they were doing.


	3. The Burr Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has discussion of religion. Like Temeraire, Calliope doesn't get the concept of faith and questions everything Alexander says about it. Alexander, on the other hand, has lost much of his faith in lieu of the hurricane.

Historians have long debated over how Hamilton managed to keep Calliope secret until April of 1775, when he joined the militia and therefore the Revolution. Many have theorized, that since Calliope was half sea serpent, she lived in the Hudson, eating fish instead of meat, as was tradition. According to Hercules Mulligan, Hamilton preferred studying by himself, outside when the weather allowed, and even during winter he enjoyed long, solitary walks, which, in retrospect, were obviously times used to visit Calliope. It is a miracle Calliope survived her first two winters in New York, being half sea serpent and half Yupanqui (as was revealed later). Sea serpents are known to prefer warm waters of the equator and Yupanqui were bred in the jungles of South America to serve as companions to the Sapa Inca, both species who prefer warmer climates. But her experiences then may have helped her survive the harsh winters during the Revolution.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_June 16th, 1773_

Aaron was spending the summer in New York. In autumn he would return to his studies in Princeton, but for now he would enjoy the peace and quiet of his leisurely walk on the western shore of the Hudson. Most people wouldn’t find walking by the river enjoyable, but he had always liked the breeze and the sound of nature that Elizabethtown lacked. It wasn’t that he was a naturalist, but the peacefulness of nature had always calmed him when being around people became too much.

Up ahead was coming a little cove he liked to sit in and read, but this time it seemed to be taken.

Someone was reading the Greek myths aloud in classical Greek.

Someone interrupted them. “But Alexander! If the apple belongs to the most beautiful, why don’t the goddesses rank each other? One ranks the other two, and the one who got two votes gets the apple.”

“That would have been the logical thing to do, but none of them were the goddess of logic, now were they? Sure Athena was the goddess of wisdom and battle strategy, but both of them are applications of logic, which could very well mean that she was illogical in other things, such as when it came to her vanity and personal relationships. Hera, on the other hand, was never logical in her personal affairs. As for Aphrodite… well, love is never logical, so we shouldn’t expect the goddess of love to be either. Also, it wouldn’t be a very good story, would it?”

“No, I suppose not,” admitted the female voice.

Aaron peeked form behind the tree, and stared.

It was a young man, about Aaron’s age, with a – a dragon curled up in the shallow water, sunning itself. Its long body was curled up like a snake, and its wings… God, it had four wings. It didn’t match the description of any dragon Aaron had read of. Its color scheme was something exotic, a bright green that seemed to be darkening to a forest green and a light pink that was brightening to an attention grabbing pink Aaron had only seen on the brightest of flowers. If he couldn’t see the wings, he’d have claimed the dragon was a sea serpent, and if the body hadn’t been that long, he would have claimed it was an unknown dragon species.

“Alexander, why are these gods and goddesses myths, but not the one in your Bible? Aren’t these gods older? Isn’t Judaism older than Christianity too? Wasn’t Moses a Jew and freeing slaves in Egypt, which, again had its own gods?”

Aaron felt both like he’d been slapped and that the world had suddenly been turned upside down. No one he knew questioned the Scripture. He bit his lip to keep from going over and giving the beast a sermon worthy of his grandfather. No one argued with a dragon, they might eat you if you annoyed them enough.

The young man spluttered, likely wordless, Aaron thought.

Or maybe not. “Calliope! We don’t question the Bible. Religion is a matter of faith, not whether or not it makes sense.”

“I’m not going to believe just because I’m told to,” the dragon huffed. “If this god wants me to believe in him, he can come down here to meet me. We could have a long talk about his view on slavery, since the Bible so clearly accepts it while also saying all men are his children. And yet, isn’t Jesus referred to as his only son? What are the rest of the male humans? And yet Eve was the creator of original sin. And what is this hell all about? If Jesus sacrificed himself for all of humanity, wouldn’t all of you go to heaven anyway? And what about the flood thing? Animals can’t reproduce an entire species from one pair of male and female specimens, Ned says they’ll inbreed and become sterile in just two or three generations. And where are all the dragons? What happens to our souls after we die? Do we have souls in the first place? Because morals are not just a human thing. Also, if there were so many miracles two, three thousand years ago, why did they stop? And if King George derives his right to rule over us from god, why isn’t he a better king? One would think an omnipotent and omnipresent god would have something to say about him breaking his promises. Does that count as lying?”

The young man the dragon had addressed as Alexander groaned. “Please slow down, one question at a time. But… I don’t have all the answers. Except that if there is a God, he must be taking a hands-off approach in governing us. I’ve never had my prayers answered, so either they are drowned in other people’s prayers, or he’s not listening to prayers at all. His Angels too. On the other hand, how do you explain all this? Us humans and dragons and the world? If God didn’t create us, who or what did? As soon as you can give me a viable alternative, I’ll discard the story of Adam and Eve.”

“But not your god?”

“Well, I like to think I’m a good person and that God wouldn’t be very petty if I had my doubts of His existence, so I don’t think my life would go any differently in either scenario. I will not commit myself to either cause before either side has presented me proof one way or another.”

“I don’t think there is a god. Why would he allow such things like hurricanes and earth quakes and malaria to exist? No, whatever created us, also created them, and is nothing to worship.”

“Very well, shall we go back to reading?”

“Yes please.”

Aaron leaned against the tree he had been hiding behind. Over hearing that simple conversation made him question everything he had considered fact in his life. Every religious thing, that is. For the past year he had been studying different parts of the Bible and how to interpret them. In a few months he would go back to Princeton to study more, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to do so as objectively as before. Or maybe he would be too objective? How would he be able to ignore the doubts the dragon had planted in his mind?

In a daze he returned to Elizabethtown.

‘*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’*’

It was two days later that he was introduced to Alexander Hamilton.

They kept meeting that summer.


	4. We don't need money

It is unknown if Calliope took part in the defense of Manhattan before 1776, but the suspicious circumstances of the sinking of HMS Asia in 1775 seem to imply that, because the wreck, when lifted from the bottom of the New York Bay in 1986, had a large hole in the bottom rather than anywhere where a cannon from the shore could have hit. Soon after, Hamilton was raised to Captain in the New York militia, and was given command of both his dragon crew as well as the artillery company Hearts of Oak, previously marked down as the Corsicans. Why Hamilton was given command of both is unknown, and it is the only instance in history in which it has happened.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_May 26 th, 1775_

Alexander strode to the water front, barely affected by the long night of hauling heavy canons. HMS Asia had fired upon them, but had suddenly stopped midway through. Some of the sailors survived, and said that something had hit the bottom of the ship, practically tearing through it. It sunk in minutes and only a handful of the sailors knew how to swim. (Alexander had always shaken his head at this. If you worked close to water, it was better to know how to swim.)

“Calliope?” he called over the river and in seconds Calliope’s green head surfaced from the river. She spotted him and swam over with a few powerful thrusts of her body.

“You are not hurt?” she fretted, crowding Alexander’s personal space. “I sunk that ship that dared to fire upon you, but they had already started. You weren’t hit, were you?”

“No, I’m fine,” answered Alexander, patting her nose. “My muscles are a little sore, but that’s all. So you were the one to sink _Asia_?”

“Yes, they shouldn’t have fired upon you,” she said sulkily. The she brightened and offered something she had in her paw to Alexander. “I looked around the ship later, once it was all settled, and found these shiny things.”

Alexander stared at the gold bullion with the Spanish stamp and the engraved _400 oz_. What had _Asia_ been doing to have gold bullions in cargo? Fighting Spanish frigates? Or pirates?

“How many?” asked Alexander, still staring at the bullion.

“Two hundred and thirty-seven,” answered Calliope. “That I could find anyway. They were so pretty I couldn’t leave them there.”

Two hundred and thirty-seven gold bullions. That was more money than the people St. Croix and Nevis had combined. And it had fallen in Alexander’s lap. What was he supposed to do now? Without Calliope, the gold would have lain in the bottom of the bay. No, it would have sailed to England to fund the war.

He had never wanted money for more than living and maybe a few comforts, but he knew he was singular in that way. Money didn’t buy happiness, though it helped with it.

How would he even explain the gold to people? No one knew of Calliope, so he couldn’t say she sunk the ship and found the gold there. Then there was the matter of the Spanish stamp. Should he return it to the Spanish? How would he explain that?

Why couldn’t they have been pieces of eight? Those he could have used immediately.

On the other hand, gold was the standard of money everywhere, and it would be so in the colonies too after the war. They’d just need a bank to stabilize a national currency instead of having the public continually use a mixture of foreign currency. He was struck by Déjà vu of when he found Calliope’s egg.

“Can you bury it to the bottom of the Hudson?” he asked.

Calliope tilted her head, confused. “Yes, but as it’s pretty, why should I?”

“This is gold, and very valuable to humans. I don’t know how much it’s actually worth, but I do know it’s worth a lot of money. Have I explained the concept of money to you?”

“Yes, last autumn.”

“And did you like that pig I gave you for Christmas?”

“Yes.”

“I bought it with money.”

Calliope looked thoughtful. “Could you buy better clothes with money?”

Alexander glanced at his durable cotton clothes. They were a little drab and coarse, but they were functional. He looked at Calliope. “Yes I could.”

“If you have use for it, why would you still bury it to the bottom of the river?”

”Because I have no way to turn this effectively into money, but after the war is a different story.”

“Very well,” Calliope sulked. “I will bury the gold.”

Alexander’s heart softened. “You can keep one with you. That way, the rest are easier to split between the two of us.”

Calliope’s countenance brightened immediately.


	5. Lynchpin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief comment on historical accuracy: IRL Edward Stevens had likely left for England to study to become a doctor. In this 'verse he stayed to study in King's College's Medical school to stay close to Alexander and observe Calliope.

In late August 1776, it became obvious to everyone that the Patriots had some unconventional help, when Calliope overturned the boats that were ferrying soldiers and horses while the navy covered them for attacks from land. Thirteen thousand Loyalists drowned, amongst them General William Howe. The other nine thousand were fished out of the water and taken prisoner and the Patriots won the battle of Long Island that never was. Instead the battleground became Staten Island, when the following morning Washington led an attack against the remaining ten thousand British soldiers. The Navy, seeing it had little chance of doing more than bombing the settlements, tried to retreat. Fifty-six of the 130 strong fleet were sunk before the rest surrendered. Seventy-four of the formerly British ships fell into the Patriots’ hands, leaving the British only with their merchant fleet and supplying the ill-equipped Patriots with ammunition, gunpowder, rations, clothes, pepper guns and some much needed gold. Hamilton sprung into fame immediately as a consequence, because suddenly the Patriots had a navy. Their army was still less well equipped than their British enemies, but they had gotten a significant boost, and the only thing they still really needed was discipline and military conduit installed in them, which was something Hamilton had been vocal about during his Militia training.

It was a decisive victory for the Patriots, and the only large congregation of British in the Colonies was in Canada. It was not a victory to boast about, as it was won in an underhanded way, without giving the British the chance to surrender, but it proved to the British and the World that these Americans mean business. For the longest time no one outside the Army knew of Calliope Hamilton, and the rumors in Europe was that the Americans had someone who could bend the elements to their will, and there was a collective sigh of relief, when it was revealed to be only a water dragon, even if they were supposedly a myth from the East. What they didn’t realize at the time, was that with Calliope Hamilton, the States had a way to sink any ship that they didn’t like as long as they knew where the ship was. Sending out fleets against her would be a waste of resources, which was a lesson that would take losing a second fleet for the British to learn.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_August 27 th, 1776_

The roar only Alexander expected echoed over the battlefield. There was a cheer from the British, assuming it to be the herald or fore flyer of the aerial corps finally come from Halifax. Their elation soon turned to horror, when Calliope spat streams of river water at them with the precision of a sharp shooter and the power of a cannon, flipping boats and ruining vital supplies. Once she’d exhausted her water supply, Calliope dove into the midst of the boats, continuing flipping them over further and further from the shore.

When it became clear that the dragon was on the Patriots’ side, the British tried to, unsuccessfully, turn their cannons on her, but as her long, serpentine body was completely different from the typically bulky French and Spanish dragons that they were taught to fight, they missed more often than not. The Patriots, on the other hand, rallied, and continued fighting the men that had already made berth.

It didn’t take long the British ships to start retreating, and Alexander, as artillery Captain, was one of those who had no place in the chase. He ordered his men to secure their supplies before going to help the wounded or securing prisoners. He, on the other hand, went to report to Colonel Fleming.

A few hours later Calliope rose from the bay and walked, still dripping wet, over to where Alexander was recording everything in his journal.

“Alexander, you are not hurt, are you?” asked Calliope, nosing Alexander to determine whether he smelt of his own blood or if the blood on him was someone else’s.

Alexander abandoned his journal to wrap his arms around her snout, to the shock of those around them. Captain Hamilton wasn’t known for showing tender feelings unless one was a wealthy young lady. Calliope being the recipient of the affection might have had something to do with the staring too. “I am perfectly fine, my sweet. The blood belongs to Colonel Knowlton, who has been hit by a stray shot. I was the one who found him, well behind our fortifications. He is with a surgeon now.” He drew back just enough to see more of her. He frowned. “You are the one bleeding,” he said and ran a hand up to Calliope’s forehead, where a gash was still bleeding sluggishly. “Are you well enough to fly to Ned’s?”

“Yes, I only counted one glancing cannon ball, two musket bullets and the rest came from sharp debris, nothing Ned can’t sew up,” Calliope reassured Alexander. “Will you stay safe until I return?”

“Of course, my sweet. I will see you later this evening when you return,” he said with a smile.

“I’ll see you later,” Calliope nodded her goodbye and took off flying to Manhattan.

Alexander watched her flight for a short while, imagining the freedom of flight, until one of the soldiers gathered his wits enough to break hi from his musings.

“That’s your dragon?” he asked, and hastily added, “Captain Hamilton, sir.”

Alexander turned slightly towards the speaker. “I think it is more accurate to say she has me, or that we have each other,” he replied, his tone deceptively mild. “Back to work, I expect the General will want a full account of our supplies.”

One of the men cleaning up the debris dropped what he was carrying and ran off, towards the command tent. A small smile played on Alexander’s face as he watched the man disappear.

Soon, he expected, he would be summoned to meet the General. Maybe not immediately, but before sundown certainly.

He finished writing down the details of the battle, before he joined the men in hauling debris. The bodies not in water had already been cleared away.

As he had predicted, the summons came after Calliope had returned. The young messenger stared at Calliope with interest as he relayed his message to Alexander, and had he been staring at anyone other than Calliope, Alexander would have been insulted for being nearly ignored.

Squaring his shoulders, Alexander marched through the camp, Calliope behind him. The messenger led him to the very middle of the camp and pointed him to the largest tent.

Inside were three men, one obviously a slave. One was Colonel Fleming, his immediate superior officer. The last one was a towering man in a general’s uniform.

“Sir,” Alexander saluted Fleming first, before repeating it with General Washington. “General Washington.” Behind him Calliope poked her head in the tent.

“Captain Hamilton and…?” Fleming asked, looking at Alexander to make the introduction.

“Calliope Hamilton, sir,” Calliope introduced herself, as Alexander had known she would. Alexander arched a challenging eyebrow at the Colonel. Calliope was a person as much as he was, she would be part of the conversation. “It’s an honor to meet you, Alexander speaks highly of you.”

“How did this arrangement come to be?” asked General Washington, apparently not beating around the bush any more.

“After the hurricane of ’72, I found Calliope’s egg washed ashore on St. Croix,” Alexander answered crisply. “I brought the egg with me to New York and she hatched on the 18th of April, 1773. My friend Edward Stevens was with us, and deduced that she is half sea serpent, hence gills. She lives in the Hudson, sir, eating fish instead of beef or mutton.”

“And you didn’t report finding a dragon egg to anyone in authority? The British would have paid handsomely for a rare dragon egg,” challenged Washington.

“That may be, but as I had just enough money to get by, I felt no temptation for more. I’d rather be Calliope’s Captain, sir, than the richest man on Earth without her,” Alexander challenged back. He’d rather be remembered for something he was than for something he did.

Washington’s face gave nothing away, but the air in the tent shifted, and Alexander felt like he’d passed some sort of test.

“How fast can she fly?” General Washington asked.

“From here to Elizabethtown in optimal conditions, if we push it, three minutes, but she would be slightly out of breath. Five minutes and there is no averse reaction. Eight minutes if we have strong wind behind us and we only glide. We can hold the five minute pace for six hours straight, but then Calliope needs to eat. We once flew to Boston in four hours and forty minutes, sir.”

“That’s two hours to Philadelphia,” murmured Washington thoughtfully. “Sixteen hours to Charleston, eighteen to Savannah.”

“Only in the best conditions, sir,” Alexander cautioned. “Against the wind, it very well might take four, five days.”

“It is still ten times faster than by horse,” Washington said practically. “The British couriers manage twelve hours to Savannah at best.” He then turned to look at Calliope. “What were your reasons today? In the massacre?”

Calliope cocked her head. “They were going to hurt my Alexander,” she said, like it explained everything.

And, from her point of view, it did, Alexander knew. And deducing from his sigh, so did Washington.

“I don’t think I like fighting,” Calliope continued. “But Alexander has explained why he has to, and therefore why I have to, and upping the boats was the easiest way to protect him.”

Washington gave a wry smile. “I suppose it was.”


	6. The Schuylers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays! Even if it is a little late.  
> Anyway, we finally meet Eliza! I'm thinking of an interlude from her point of view for Valentine's Day, so that you get to see a little more of her character, which seems rather two dimensional at first in Alexander's pov.  
> R&R!

 

As we well know, it didn’t end there, but Hamilton was introduced to the commanding brass of the army in the following months, as well as his future wife, Elizabeth Schuyler, both of them nineteen at the time. Eliza Schuyler’s father, General Philip Schuyler, had brought his middle daughter with him, as he sometimes did, but the meeting was to be brief, as Hamilton, while the hero of the hour, was also a penniless dragon Captain, and therefore unsuitable marriage prospects for the daughter of a wealthy landowner. Hamilton though had a way with people, and many were charmed by the Captain, but he also made some enemies by being too outspoken for a “creole bastard”, as General Charles Lee described him in a letter.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_October 7 th, 1776_

Calliope landed smoothly, her short legs bowing slightly under her weight. Alexander freed himself from the carabineers and slid smoothly down her side. The new crew followed suit and started unloading their equipment. The soldiers around them were ogling, still not used to having a dragon so close.

“Captain!” Robert Troupe greeted Alexander happily. “Calliope! Good to see you! The General said he wanted to see you both as soon as you landed. He’s in the command tent.”

“It’ll take just a moment to get most of the harness off of Calliope,” Alexander said, patting Calliope on the neck. He hated making His Excellency wait, but Calliope’s harness wasn’t very comfortable on the ground.

In less than five minutes the ground crew had Calliope out of her harness, going it over strap by strap to make note of any repairs or changes that would have to be made. Calliope had mentioned a chafe over her back wings, so they’d have to do something about that.

“We’re ready now, please lead the way,” Alexander told Troupe, having straightened his own clothes while waiting for Calliope. Flying wasn’t all that good for appearances.

Troupe led them through the camp. The command tent was one of the larger ones, though obviously not large enough for Calliope.

Alexander entered the ten and held the flap open so that Calliope could easily push her head inside. “Your Excellency,” he said, turning to General Washington, bowing at the waist respectfully.

“Hamilton, good, you’re here,” the General said and motioned him closer. “This is General Schuyler and his daughter Elizabeth,” he said, gesturing to the other gentleman and young woman in the tent. “General Schuyler, miss Schuyler, this is Captain Hamilton and his dragon Calliope.”

General Schuyler gave him a judging once over before offering his hand for Alexander to shake. “General Philip Schuyler.”

Alexander shook the hand firmly. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Alexander Hamilton,” he said respectfully, inclining his head. “This is Calliope Hamilton,” he said and gestured to Calliope.

Calliope nodded at General Schuyler. “Pleased to make you acquaintance, sir.” She then turned expectantly to miss Schuyler.

General Schuyler read the situation correctly. “And this is my daughter, Elizabeth Schuyler.”

The girl curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Hamilton and… Calliope?”

Calliope struck her head as close to Miss Schuyler as she could, sniffing her slightly, before retreating back to the doorway. “Alexander, you may mate with this one, she’d give you strong eggs.”

A mortified blush crept over Alexander’s face. He’d tried to explain to her that humans chose their partners based on other factors than just strong descendants, but she continued to insist that strong offspring were the main reason for mating, and should therefore be a deciding factor in choosing a mate. Miss Schuyler had been the first female Calliope had approved of (she hadn’t liked Kitty Livingston at all when she’d smelled her on him).

He quickly glanced around for the others’ reactions. His Excellency looked astonished and slightly amused. General Schuyler looked in equal parts mortified and thoughtful. Miss Schuyler was blushing brightly, but she glanced at him with a small smile.

“Calliope, we’ve talked about this, I can’t just – just mate with someone you feel is suitable. You’d have to consider many other things, such as her family and her own feelings on such things,” Alexander tried to explain calmly, though quietly, patting her snout. “And you’d have to consider what I can offer her. I didn’t even pass the bar before the war, so even when the war is over, I’ll have no stable income. It would be a struggle to even feed you if you didn’t know how to hunt for yourself.”

“What about-“

“That is better saved for a worst case scenario, my sweet, not for me to get a wife I can’t support,” Alexander interrupted Calliope before she could bring up the gold buried in the bottom of the Hudson.

“You know I’d share with you,” said Calliope plaintively.

“Which is why half of it is mine and half yours, not three quarters mine and one quarter yours,” Alexander said with the air of finality, turning back to the other humans in the tent. “My apologies, Calliope doesn’t yet quite understand human manners.”

“She is excused,” Washington waived the apology aside. “Now Hamilton, do you have the reply from Philadelphia?”

“Yes Your Excellency,” admitted Alexander and took the letter from his satchel. The task of currying letters was beneath him and Calliope, but as the Continental army had no other dragons in their service yet, they were more often than not carrying orders or confidential letters. “I spoke with Henry Laurens, sir, and he said he was sorry about the decision, whatever it might be.”

“I will read it later then,” the General nearly sighed as he set the unopened letter on his desk. “Hamilton, you’re dismissed,”

“Yes sir,” Alexander bowed one last time and pushed Calliope out in front of himself, but not before stealing one last glance at the pretty Miss Schuyler.

“Can I go eat now?” asked Calliope hopefully.

“Just be back in time for the ground crew to take those measures they wanted earlier, alright? And what do you want to read later this evening? I can ask around the camp.”

“We finished re-reading Plato’s Republic last night. I thought maybe some Shakespearean comedy tonight, then something more serious again later.”


	7. Problems and Solutions (Or Why you should always have time to listen to Alexander)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

In late 1776 Hamilton was given the mission to negotiate the exchange of the fifteen thousand prisoners for as many dragon eggs as he could manage. At this time the dragon population of Delaware and western Pennsylvania were not yet known, so Calliope was considered the only dragon the Patriots had. Hamilton managed to negotiate thirty-three dragons (most of them what we consider the family class dragons, then referred to as the courier class) in exchanged for fifteen thousand foot soldiers, managing to keep the officers off the negotiation table for a later date.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_November 23_ _rd_ _, 1776_

There was a problem with the uniform, Alexander thought. So far, he was the only aviator with a uniform, and his was that of the Hearts of Oak, his artillery company. And while green was his favorite color, the British aviator uniform was bottle green. Also, the original uniform had been a discreet nod to Calliope's colors, but now people might think everyone wearing one was part of his crew, which they were not. This would be easily solvable by taking a walk down the Rector Street to Hercules Mulligan's shop.

The second problem were the over fifteen thousand British prisoners they'd have to feed through the winter on top of their own remaining twelve thousand men. Not that he was even being consulted over the fact, no. He was the messenger, the courier between General Washington and the Congress. But from what he'd heard, they weren't even thinking that far ahead yet.

This problem, or rather, these two distinct problems, could be solved with one stroke: exchange the British prisoners for dragon eggs. Specifically, courier class dragon eggs. The British would never let go of one of their longwings, but a few greylings, winchesters and the common yellow reapers might be possibly extracted. Then, once the couriers were hatched and grown, they could take over the message running, leaving the fighting to Alexander and Calliope.

Alexander stared at the night sky, sighing once again. General Washington hadn't had time to talk with Alexander for more than "Take this to Philadelphia" and "Good, you're back, leave it there, dismissed Captain Hamilton" since introducing General Schuyler. Which, again, he understood, but really, would it kill the man to take five minutes and listen to Alexander?

"What's the matter, Alexander?" asked Calliope, cracking an eye open. "You've been sighing since sun down."

He had been leaning against Calliope's side, but now he stood up and started pacing. "It's just… I know creating a country doesn't happen overnight, but all the Continental Congress does is write letters. They can't create laws and they can't tax the people. That means they won't be able to pay the soldiers their wages or for the soldiers' equipment. And if they can't look after their own soldiers, they most certainly won't be able to look after fifteen thousand prisoners during winter, at least not without alienating the very people we are fighting for. I know we have some gold, but even we don't have enough to fund the entire war on our own. Robert Morris helps with that, but even he doesn't have limitless money. And I know there are few troops of the British south of the border, but we should be there fighting, rather than running messages that aren't likely to do anything.

"And the solution is simple, but because General Washington is so busy, he has no time to talk with me so that I could help him."

Calliope watched him calmly. "Well then I shall inform him of his mistake in the morning, and then you can tell him of your concerns and ideas," she said, like the matter was that simple.

Alexander groaned. "Even if he were willing, you can't simply barge in on his meetings to demand he take five minutes to listen to me."

There was a slight cough just out of the firelight's ring. A solder, two, three years older than Alexander, stepped forward. "Excuse me, I couldn't help overhearing. You have a problem?"

"Not I, but the whole Continental Army and the Congress," snapped Alexander, not interested in the platitudes the soldier was likely to offer. "We have fifteen thousand prisoners, twelve thousand troops, and barely enough money to feed ourselves, and Calliope and I are undervalued as couriers."

"What's your solution, then? You said you had one?" the solder prompted. His light hair gleamed red in the fire light.

"Ransom the soldiers back to the British for dragon eggs," was Alexander's immediate answer. "They will not give us long wings or regal coppers or even angle wings, but courier class dragons and maybe a few yellow reapers. There is a breeding ground in Halifax, so the exchange could be done here without risking the eggs on a long voyage. We would get rid of most of the prisoners and gain fast communications for all out troops. Yes, feeding the dragons might be a slight problem at first, but they learn to hunt early on." He looked at Calliope fondly. "Calliope was fishing her meals a week after hatching."

The soldier scrutinized Alexander, before smiling. "It's not a bad plan," he confirmed. "I'll slip you fifteen minutes with the General tomorrow, around ten, if that suits you."

Alexander cocked his head to the left slightly. "Of course, but who are you to promise me the General's time?"

"I'm Lieutenant-Colonel John Laurens, one of the General's aids-de-camp," the soldier introduced himself. "And you are Alexander Hamilton, Captain of the dragon Calliope Hamilton who singlehandedly won the Battle of the New York Bay."

"Laurens? Any relation to Henry Laurens?" asked Alexander.

Laurens' smile became somewhat fixed. "He is my father."

Alexander knew better than to ask what was straining their relationship. Better change the subject. "This is Calliope, as you know."

"Indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you," Laurens said and gave Calliope a shallow bow.

"Yes, yes, can I sleep now? Alexander should sleep too~" she said with a wide yawn, showcasing her sharp, serrated teeth. One of her wings moved enough to reveal Alexander's sleeping roll tucked to her side, protected from the elements by afore mentioned wing.

"I'm coming, you big lizard," Alexander said affectionately, biding Laurens good night, and crawling into his toasty bedroll, still able to glimpse the night sky from under Calliope's wing.


	8. Correct terminology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a lot of world building in it, so I'm sorry for the fillery feel of it.

The misconception of Calliope being the only Patriot dragon was corrected, when the Delaware militia, composing mostly of those descending from the Finnish settlers of the original New Sweden, arrived to present themselves for the General. Early Scandinavian merchants, the Vikings, had early adopted the roman dragon harnessing and handling method, but it had never reached the peninsula now known as Finland. The difference was that the Finns had to learn to live with their dragons for centuries even before the Swedish crusaders in the 1200s. They adopted similar practices as China, the Tswana Empire and the Incan Empire, making their own distinct way of handling dragons, in which the dragons were considered citizens, even family. Every child who lived to their tenth summer were gifted with a dragon egg, which they were to look after with the help of their parents’ dragons. When the dragon hatched, the human and dragon became inseparable, negotiating even marriages together, as the dragons often mated their human’s partner’s dragon. When the human died, the dragon stayed with the family and were often the most influential members of käräjät (the democratic governing body of a village or township, presiding over trials, taxes and general welfare). The important aspect of the Finnish dragons was that they helped their humans with their work, meaning that a hunter’s dragon had to be able to blend into any surroundings, a smith’s dragon often developed immunity to fire, farmers’ dragons managed to produce animal calming scent and had tails that could be used either as a plow or an axe, depending on the need. Finland is also the only European country to have native water dragons, most likely developed to help with fishing in the numerous lakes and rivers. The dragons that arrived to greet the General were what we consider private class, but then were somewhere between courier and light weight dragons. The Finnish dragons were not known for their speed, indeed, but rather for their stamina, being able to fly two to three days without rest.

'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'*'

_April 14 th, 1777_

Being called by the General early in the morning was something Alexander was getting used to. Usually it was just to receive orders to carry another letter to the Congress. Once, it had been about his plan for the British prisoners, which he’d negotiated himself with General Henry Clinton. (His starting position had been to exchange two hundred prisoners per courier class egg, four hundred per middle weight egg and seven hundred per heavy weight egg. They’d settled for four hundred per courier weight egg, five hundred for light weight fighting egg, seven hundred for middle weight eggs and a thousand for a heavy weight egg. He managed to get twenty winchesters, four xenicas and five grey coppers and four common yellow reapers. When the eggs were handed over, one of the stone faced aviators had handed Alexander a piece of parchment with the words _Xenicas only accept female companions_. Since that aviator captained a xenica themselves, and had the body of a woman, Alexander was willing to believe her.)

Suddenly Alexander had been responsible for finding four women willing to tie themselves to a dragon for the rest of their lives, not to mention men captains for the other twenty-nine dragons, being promoted to Commodore to mark him as the aviator in charge of the others.

He remembered from his later research at King’s College’s library, that British dragons were harnessed rather by force than any agreement on the dragon’s part, and thought his own method better, so he had instructed everyone accepting an egg to talk to it. To tell the dragonet inside who they were, what they were fighting for and what they wanted to do after the war. And to talk in as many languages as they possibly could, even going as far as to arrange common sessions in which he read in Spanish or French to the collective egg group while Calliope brooded over them.

John Laurens was one of the first officers who accepted a winchester egg. Major Benjamin Tallmadge got the last one. The larger dragon eggs were accepted by those that had shown both courage and leadership skills, such as Aaron Burr and Benedict Arnold.

The winchesters had hatched early and near simultaneously, all twenty within a week. Laurens named his Aiolos.

The xenicas were the next ones scheduled to hatch, but there were some problems with them, since one of them took a liking to a slave woman instead of his appointed Captain, Mary White. Abigail was the slave of Anna Strong, one of the volunteered other xenica Captains. She wasn’t afraid of the dragon, having hazy memories of dragons from her childhood, but she was afraid of what her being a dragon Captain would mean in regards to her son. Mpho, as the xenica was named, declared that should anyone distress his Captain, he should very well eat them, before eating the entrails of the slaughtered cow, and falling asleep with his jaw still dripping with blood. Nancy Trotter and Deborah Sampson harnessed their xenicas without problems.

Having dragons with female captains caused bit of a shock to the general populace, and gave Alexander another headache with the uniform, but Mulligan suggested long coats to hide that they only wore breeches underneath. Alexander then made long, dark violet coats the standard aviator uniform, to better hide the women Captains among their fellow aviators. Alexander funded the uniforms himself, and Calliope persuaded him to splurge on a velvet dress uniform on top of the functional cotton uniform.

The other eggs weren’t set to hatch until a year later, for which Alexander was thankful, because he already had enough on his plate, learning to fly in “formation”, if it could be called that, as well as directing the energetic winchesters in the kind of play that would help them later on.

And now the General had called for him once more, though his days were already hectic.

To his surprise he was directed to the field outside the camp, where the General stood in conference with a commander of one State militia or other.

“Sir,” he announced his presence, falling into a parade rest.

“Commodore Hamilton, this is Caesar Rodney. It seems your force just grew larger,” General Washington said, humor coloring his voice.

“Sir?” asked Alexander and turned to look at Rodney curiously. The man covered half his face with a green scarf.

“Delaware has dragons, Hamilton,” the General revealed.

Rodney nodded and gestured to the trees where leaves were finally starting to emerge. “My Koivu is right there.”

Alexander squinted, seeing no dragon, but then it seemed like the bump in the forest floor moved. His attention was drawn to the too perfect shape of the bump, and finally he traced the mottled brown dragon among the dried leaves left over the previous autumn.

The dragon lifted its head, and Alexander watched with fascination as it changed the color to that of the green moss behind him.

“What breed is he?” he asked, fascinated with the camouflage ability.

“We call them piileskelijäs, it means those who hide,” answered Rodney. “They are hunter dragons.”

When Alexander turned to look at the field again, he saw what he hadn’t seen before: the dozens and dozens of dragons blending into their environment, men scattered here and there between them. That dragon there looked like a giant stone among some smaller ones. And that one there was a small hill covered in mottled grass.

This was not a fighting force, but rather scouts and spies.

“How fast are they?” he asked dazedly.

“Their best is some fifty miles an hour,” Rodney said. “They can maintain forty miles an hour near indefinitely, and can fly for three days straight. Sir,” he added as an afterthought.

They were not as fast as Calliope, or near as fast as a Winchester, but still much faster than a horse. And to be able to fly _three days_ without rest?

“Offensive capabilities?”

“Their nails are long and sharp and deliver a poison that forces relaxation,” explained Rodney. “That way their prey doesn’t taste acrid.”

“You mean they are venomous,” corrected Alexander, his mind already going through possibilities. The venom would be quite useful, should the British Aerial Corps ever actually join the fight. The only thing that worried Alexander was, how much of the poison would it take to take out a heavy weight dragon like a regal copper or long wing?

“I can see you thinking, Hamilton,” the General prompted.

Alexander turned to him. “We shall have to make some tests on the venom, sir. See how much it takes to bring down a heavy weight. Even that would have to be cautious, because regal coppers are much more densely built than Calliope, so the amount of venom to bring her down would likely only hinder a regal copper.” He turned back to the interested looking Rodney. “Does the venom eventually kill?”

Rodney shrugged. “Too much of it once forced a bear’s lungs to relax, killing it that way, but it had been scratched four time within a minute. Normally a deer, once scratched, shakes off the _venom_ within half an hour, but bleeds to death a quarter hour later.”

Alexander nodded. “So it is not intended to be lethal, just paralyzing, but large amounts will force the relaxation of vital organs, killing the victim. We shall start the experiments with a single scratch, then, and move onto more numerous once we see whether or not one affects Calliope in any way. What about humans? If a human were to be scratched, what would happen?”

“Would depend on how deep the scratch were,” answered Rodney. “Normally humans bleed out before the venom runs its course, but if it were just a nick, maybe an hour or two.”

“Can the venom be extracted and collected?” Alexander asked next. Swords, bayonets and spears coated with the venom would help in pitch battles, if they only needed to nick their opponents. “Can it be boiled down to powder form?”

“Hamilton, what about the dragons themselves? Do you have a use for them?” asked General Washington, interrupting Rodney before he could answer.

Annoyed, Alexander turned to him. “Yes sir, the pilekseljäs - (“Piileskelijäs.”) – yes, them, they make the perfect scouts and spies, and in larger battles once the British bring their dragons to play, they may very well be the thing that shifts the odds to us, since we will not have nearly as many heavy weight dragons as the British, we will have to take them down somehow, and the venom seems to be the perfect tool for that. Really though, they seem like a perfect spy force, and I would like to delegate the running of it to Captain Tallmadge and promote him to Commodore, but since that is just my opinion, I will leave it to your consideration.”

“Why do you think Captain Tallmadge should head this new division of the Aerial Force?” the General asked, ignoring Alexander’s annoyance.

“He’s been hatching a similar plan to mine to use the winchesters as spies instead of couriers, sir, and even drafted a proposal that I was going to bring to your attention later today,” explained Alexander impatiently. If the venom could be milked, maybe they could even coat the xenicas’ spikes and unusually long claws in it and deliver it that way? He’d have to meet the rest of the Delaware militia men and find one not thirsting for a fight, one more scientifically minded, and have him and Ned collaborate on the venom tests.

“I do have a head of intelligence, you know,” the General interrupted Alexander’s thoughts.

“What, Sackett? Yes I know, sir, but he is more about humans and codes and drop boxes and I doubt he’d even thought of utilizing dragons as possible agents. But Tallmadge loves his Swift and wouldn’t ask any Captain to unnecessarily endanger their beast without considering every possible angle, and he can inspire loyalty in most men, not just towards himself but for the cause as well. He is also very capable of detecting patterns and irregularities and he thinks outside the box.”

Washington sighed, as he was wont to do when Alexander won an argument. “I am not arguing about Captain Tallmadge’s qualities, just wondering if there might be someone more experienced.”

Alexander scoffed. More like someone with better connections. Because as much as Washington did appreciate talent, the lowest ranked person in his close circle was Alexander himself, a bastard grandson of a Scottish Laird who’d never even met his more important relations. Everyone else were the sons of wealthy landowners or reverends, and certainly not bastards.

“I doubt you’ll find one in the Aerial Force, sir, who also wants to take the job. Suppose you could order one to take it, but they wouldn’t do as thorough a job as Tallmadge,” Alexander informed the General. “I will have a more thorough proposal on your desk by the end of the week.”

Alexander felt strange, as he essentially dismissed the Commander-in-Chief and the General seceded, heading back to the camp proper.

Rodney had watched the exchange, his visible eyebrow raised. “Well then Commodore, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The shade of violet Alexander chose for the US Air Force is called Russian violet, though it wasn't called that until 1920's.


	9. Eliza Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I haven't updated since January and back then I promised you a Lafayette chapter. So sorry, but Lafayette just isn't cooperating with me right now and I don't want to publish these terribly out of order. But I did promise you an Eliza interlude for Valentines day, so here we are. Alexander and Eliza's first meeting from her point of view.
> 
> Also, insensitive language of POC in the period typical way.

Eliza loved her family. She loved her mother and her sisters and brothers. But she especially loved her father.

Her father, who allowed her to ride his best horses, take long walks around the grounds and read nearly anything she wanted. Her father, who took her along in stead of the witty Angelica and the wild Peggy. Her father, who has allowed her to meet Benjamin Franklin and has even brought her along to meet General Washington in New York.

The only other women in the camp were the camp followers and the odd wife of an officer. Her fine dress was quite out of place among the rough spun cotton and wool of the solders’ clothes and the tough white of the tents, drawing attention.

She followed closely behind father, returning the solders’ curious looks.

The tent they entered was surprisingly large, and the light that shone through the white canvas made the inside look surprisingly light. There were two men inside, one a large man about father’s age dressed in a general’s uniform, the other a negro.

“General Washington,” father said, giving a slight bow.

The large man looked up from his papers, face set in a serous mask. “General Schuyler, good to see you again.” His dark eyes fell to Eliza. “And this must be your daughter.”

“My middle daughter, Elizabeth,” father introduced her.

She curtsied as mother had taught her, lowering her eyes as was appropriate.

General Washington chuckled slightly. “A pleasure to meet you, miss Schuyler.”

“The honor's mine,” Eliza replied quickly, glancing up at the tall man before her.

General Washington tuned to father. “We can leave the northern territories be for now, but we must prepare to defend from an attack in the north. The very northern Hudson should be fortified heavily and –“

The talk turned to the war, and while it interested Eliza, she was more interested in the ideological aspect of it more that the tactical. The negro offered her some watered down wine, which she accepted happily. She stood aside and watched the two Generals debate over strategy and what it meant to have a water dragon in the army’s service.

Eventually the tent flap opened again, and in stepped a young man around Eliza’s own age. His back was to her and she could only see his light auburn hair and thin shoulders as he held the tent flap up for someone else.

A dragon’s head pushed inside, taking up almost double the space of General Washington. Its green color made it impossible to miss in the white-and-brown interior of the tent. Honestly, it looked like a giant snake to Eliza, with a ruff that bled from green to bright pink.

The man turned and bowed to General Washington. “Your Excellency.”

His voice was sincerely respectful even if his manners were a little rough, and Eliza found that refreshing. So often the people father dealt with were just after something, pretending to be respectful and nice while silently cursing having to bow and scrape for something. She and her sisters tried to avoid artifice as much as possible, but they had noticed that artifice made the society work.

“Hamilton, good, you’re here,” General Washington said, and Eliza heard the affection bleed to his voice. He motioned for Hamilton to step closer, and Eliza could see his face more clearly. It was a nice face, with high cheek bones and a long, straight nose. But it were his eyes that caught Eliza’s attention. They were the bluest blue that looked almost violet, and they sparkled with intelligence and hunger for life. Hamilton’s whole attention was on Washington, and Eliza had a feeling if she ever had to bear the full weight of it, she’d forget herself. The General made the introductions.

Father gave Hamilton a look from head to toe, and Hamilton bore it admirably. Then he offered his hand, as if to a peer. “General Philip Schuyler.”

Hamilton shook his hand firmly. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir. Alexander Hamilton,” he said, inclining his head respectfully. The he gestured to the dragon. “This is Calliope Hamilton.”

How a dragon was named after the Muse of poetry and eloquence, she would never understand, Eliza thought. And to give it his family name too! They were quite an odd pair, the slight young man and the brightly colored dragon.

Calliope nodded to father. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, sir,” it said with a beautiful, feminine voice. It was a voice Eliza would have expected from Ariadne or Andromeda or even Aphrodite, or, indeed, Calliope, and suddenly the dragon’s name made much more sense. Then the green head turned to her, the eyes just as intense as Hamilton’s, though at the moment more curious. It seemed to be expecting something.

“And my daughter, Elizabeth Schuyler,” father introduced her.

Hastily, Eliza curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain Hamilton and… Calliope?” She stumbled over the form of address, never having been this close to a dragon before, not even a native one.

And her proximity to the dragon just decreased, as Calliope pushed further into the tent and specifically towards her. Eliza stood still, not quite in fear, but more in shock. It seemed to inspect her from every angle it could, and it even sniffed her, before retreating to the doorway. There, it turned to Captain Hamilton. “Alexander, you may mate with this one, she’d give you strong eggs.”

Eliza felt her face heat up, from surprise, pleasure and mortification. She had known dragons must have a large impact on who might and might not marry a dragon Captain, after all, a bond between a dragon and their Captain is supposedly breakable only in death, but marriage was supposed to be the same. So either the dragon accepted their Captain’s bride, or the Captain simply didn’t marry. But to have a dragon tell their Captain she would bear them strong children… well, simply the thought was indecent and made Eliza blush even more.

She glanced at Captain Hamilton, who himself was blushing, and smiled at him to try to calm him and tell him she didn’t think Calliope’s indecent comment reflected in any way on him.

He turned away, cheeks a little redder. “Calliope, we’ve talked about this,” he started quietly, sounding exasperated, “I can’t just – just mate with someone you feel is suitable. You’d have consider many other things, such as her family and her own feelings on such things.” He tried to sound calm, but Eliza could hear the embarrassment in his voice as he patted the snout that could have eaten him whole. “And you’d have to consider what I can offer her. I didn’t even pass the bar before the war, so even when it is over, I’ll have no stable income. It would be a struggle to even feed you if you didn’t know how to hunt for yourself.”

Those were all good points, but Eliza wanted to point out only one of them was what mattered, and that was the potential bride’s own opinion on the matter.

“What about – “ Calliope started, just as quiet as Hamilton, though her higher voice carried better, but Captain Hamilton interrupted her.

“That is better saved for a worst case scenario, my sweet, not for me to get a wife I can’t support,” he said, inciting Eliza’s curiosity.

“You know I’d share with you,” complained Calliope.

“Which is why half of it is mine and half your, not three quarters mine and one quarter yours,” Hamilton said with an air of finality, turning back to the Generals. “My apologies, Calliope doesn’t yet quite understand human manners,” he said, speaking more loudly again.

“She is excused,” General Washington waived the apology aside. “Now Hamilton, do you have the reply from Philadelphia?”

“Yes Your Excellency,” confirmed Captain Hamilton as he reached to his satchel and pulling out a letter. “I spoke with Henry Laurens, sir, and he said he was sorry about the decision, whatever that might be.”

“I will read it later, then,” said General Washington, a hint of resignation in his voice. “Hamilton, you’re dismissed.”

“Yes sir,” Captain Hamilton said sharply, and with one last bow, pushed Calliope out of the tent on his way.

Returning home a week later, Eliza remembered Calliope better than Captain Hamilton, though his eyes remained firmly in the back of her mind.


End file.
